Chapter 17 The Fall Of Harper Sinclair
Harper's POV,
"Stop saying that Harper, you didn't." Maya stood up, pulling me to my feet.
"And sitting here spiraling isn't going to help anyone. Come on. We're going to your apartment to pack you a bag, then you're staying with me until this blows over."
"I can't just leave my place."
"Yes, you can. And you will." Maya grabbed her keys. "You're not spending tonight alone refreshing Twitter and torturing yourself. Let's go."
….
We were three blocks from my apartment when we saw them.
The street was packed with vans, cameras, and at least twenty people clustered around the entrance to my building. Reporters with microphones, photographers with telephoto lenses, random people with their phones out recording everything.
"Oh shit," Maya muttered, slowing the car.
"What are they doing here?" But even as I asked, I knew. Someone had leaked my address. Posted it online. Turned my home into a circus.
A woman in a red blazer spotted Maya's car and pointed. Suddenly they were all turning, cameras swiveling toward us like a flock of birds changing direction.
"Don't stop," I said. "Maya, don't stop the car."
But she had to slow down for the traffic light and that's when they swarmed.
Bodies pressed against the windows, cameras flashing directly into my face even though the glass was tinted. Someone pounded on Maya's window.
"Harper! Do you have a statement about Brianna's hospitalization?"
"Did you know she was pregnant when you attacked her?"
"Where's Crew Lawson? Does he know what you did?"
"Drive," I said, my voice shaking. "Maya, just drive."
The light turned green and Maya hit the gas, scattering the crowd. In the rearview mirror, I watched them reorganize, cameras still pointed at us as we sped away.
"Well," Maya said after a moment. "Guess you're definitely not going home tonight."
"How did they find my address?"
"Someone always finds it. Could be public records, could be someone who recognized you, could also be a neighbor who sold you out for five hundred bucks." She turned toward her building.
"Doesn't matter. What matters is you're not safe there right now."
"This is insane. I defended myself in a fight and now I can't even go home?"
"Welcome to being the main character in someone else's narrative." Maya's voice was bitter. "Joel and Brianna decided you're the villain. The media ran with it. Now everyone wants their piece of the story."
We pulled into Maya's parking garage and I finally felt like I could breathe again. The fluorescent lights, the concrete walls, the blessed absence of cameras pointing at my face.
"Come on," Maya said, killing the engine.
"We'll order food, watch something stupid on Netflix, and pretend the outside world doesn't exist for at least a few hours."
But when we got upstairs and Maya turned on the TV to find something mindless, the first thing that appeared was Joel's face.
He was sitting in what looked like a hospital waiting room, eyes red-rimmed, hair messy in that deliberately careless way that probably took him twenty minutes to perfect.
A news banner across the bottom read:
EXCLUSIVE: JOEL HARTLEY SPEAKS ABOUT FIANCÉE'S HEALTH CRISIS
"Turn it off," I said.
"Wait." Maya grabbed the remote before I could. "You need to see what he's saying. Know what you're up against."
The interviewer, some perfectly coiffed woman in a blue dress, leaned forward with practiced concern. "Joel, thank you for taking the time to speak with us during this incredibly difficult period. How is Brianna doing?"
"She's stable." Joel's voice cracked just slightly. "The doctors are monitoring her closely. The next twenty-four hours are critical for the baby."
"Can you walk us through what happened this morning? There's video of a physical altercation between Brianna and your ex-girlfriend, Harper Sinclair."
Joel ran a hand through his hair, and I recognized that gesture. He used to do it when he was about to lie to me about something.
"I don't want to point fingers or place blame. Harper is dealing with a lot right now. Her boyfriend's very public struggle with addiction, the media scrutiny, the pressure of everything that's happened. I think she's in pain and she's lashing out."
"That's not what happened," I said to the TV screen.
"Shhh," Maya replied. "Let him hang himself."
"But Brianna is pregnant," the interviewer pressed. "Did Harper know that when she initiated the physical contact?"
"I don't know what Harper knew or didn't know. What I do know is that Brianna is lying in a hospital bed right now, terrified she might lose our child." Joel looked directly into the camera, and I swear he was looking at me.
"I've known Harper for ten years. The woman I knew would never intentionally hurt anyone. But I also don't recognize the person she's become these past few months."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean she's angry. She's making choices that seem designed to hurt me rather than help herself. Getting involved with Crew Lawson, someone with serious issues. Showing up at my press conference to air our private history. And now this." He shook his head slowly. "I just hope she gets the help she needs before someone else gets hurt."
"You manipulative piece of shit," Maya said, her voice shaking with rage.
"He just told the entire world I'm unstable," I said. My voice sounded distant, like it was coming from somewhere else. "That I'm dangerous."
"He's protecting his image," Maya shot back. "Brianna slapped you on camera. This is damage control."
"It's working though." I gestured at the TV where Joel was now wiping his eyes.
"Look at him. He looks like the concerned ex-boyfriend trying to help his mentally ill former girlfriend… While painting her as the psycho who attacked a pregnant woman."
The interview continued, Joel answering questions with perfect soundbites about forgiveness and hope and prayers. With every word carefully chosen to paint himself as noble and me… as unhinged.
Finally, mercifully, it ended.
Maya turned off the TV and the apartment fell silent.
"I need to do something," I said, standing up and pacing. "I can't just sit here while Joel rewrites history and everyone believes him."
"What do you want to do? Give your own interview? That'll just turn into a he-said-she-said and you'll lose because he's America's hockey sweetheart and you're the bitter ex."
"Then what do I do?"
"Nothing. You stay quiet, you let your lawyer handle the lawsuit, and you wait for this to blow over."
"And if it doesn't blow over?"
Maya didn't have an answer for that.
My phone rang, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. I looked at the screen and my stomach dropped.
Dr. Lisa Chen. My boss at Evergreen Physical Therapy.
"I have to take this," I said, my mouth going dry.
Maya's expression shifted. She knew what this call was going to be.
I answered, my hand shaking. "Hello?"
"Harper." Dr. Chen's voice was tight, professional. Not the warm tone I was used to. "I need to speak with you about your employment status."
"Okay." I sat down on Maya's couch, bracing myself.
"I'm sure you're aware that footage of this morning's incident has gone viral. Your name and face are everywhere, associated with assault allegations and a lawsuit involving a pregnant woman."
"Dr. Chen, I can explain–"
"I don't need an explanation, Harper. I need you to understand that Evergreen Physical Therapy serves families. Parents bring their children to us. Even pregnant women come to us for prenatal care. And right now, having you on staff is creating a problem."
"A problem." I repeated the words like they were in a foreign language.
"We've had seven cancellations today. Seven families who specifically requested not to work with you, and three who said they'd find another clinic entirely if you remained employed here."
"So you're firing me."
"I'm placing you on administrative leave while we assess the situation." Dr. Chen's voice softened slightly.
"Harper, I've always valued your work. You're an excellent physical therapist. But I have a business to run and I can't afford to lose clients because of your personal life becoming public."
"I was defending myself. Brianna slapped me first. There's a video of it."
"I know. I've seen it. But perception matters, Harper. And right now, the perception is that you attacked a pregnant woman. True or not, that's what people believe."
"So I'm guilty until proven innocent."
"You're on administrative leave until this resolves itself. I'm sorry. I truly am. But this is what's best for the clinic."
She hung up before I could respond.
I sat there holding the phone, staring at Maya's coffee table, trying to process what had just happened.
"They fired you," Maya said quietly.
"Administrative leave. Which is basically firing me without saying the words." I set my phone down carefully, like it might explode. "I can't pay rent without my job. I can't go home because of the paparazzi. I can't contact Crew to tell him what's happening. And everyone in Seattle thinks I tried to kill a baby."
"Harper–"
"Joel wins," I said with a humorless laugh.
"He called one press conference, gave one interview, and destroyed my entire life in less than twelve hours. He wins."
"He doesn't win." Maya grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. "He doesn't win because you're still standing. You're still here. And in twenty-nine days, Crew comes home and you're going to that wedding and you're going to show everyone who you really are."
"What if I don't know who I am anymore?"
"Then you figure it out." Maya's grip tightened. "You have 29 days, Harper. Use them."
I nodded because I didn't trust my voice.
29 days until Crew came home.
I have to find a way to survive without a job, without my apartment, without anything except Maya's couch and the wreckage of my reputation.
Day one wasn't even over yet.
And I already felt like I was drowning.